


reunion

by zoemargaret



Category: Sports RPF, Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-21
Updated: 2010-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:24:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemargaret/pseuds/zoemargaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marat and Feli meet after a long separation. Prequel to "if players do not pass another in silence".</p>
            </blockquote>





	reunion

Marat turns around and presses his back to the door as Feliciano smirks and drops to his knees. The hotel carpet is rough even through his pants, but it feels so good to be like this in front of Marat, watching the other man watch him, brown eyes almost shocked. Making a show of it, he links his hands behind the small of his back, shirt pulling tight across his chest and arms. Marat's breath catches and Feliciano allows himself to smirk.

"Pretty, pretty Felito," Marat says, dropping a hand to sweep his hair behind his ear. His hand is so familiar, calloused and strong and Feliciano wants nothing more than to melt into the touch. "Are you trying to provoke me?"

He smiles at the question and turns nips at Marat's wrist, the pulse strong and steady against his teeth. Giving into a mischievous urge that only Marat seems to bring out in him, he bites down harder. Marat hisses and yanks his wrist away. With a soft growl he flicks Feli's nose with two fingers. Feli gives a kittenish indignant sound, then narrows his eyes at Marat's rumble of laughter. Meets Marat's eye as he leans forward and rubs his nose against the bulge in Marat's jeans. "Maybe," he admits. Grips the material with his teeth and tugs playfully, Marat's body long and lean and _big_ above him.

Marat chuckles at him, the sound raspy with lust. “So hungry already?" he asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement. Feli snorts but doesn't deny it; they haven't managed to be meet up like this for three weeks. Three weeks with nothing but furtive phone-calls and jerking off to the sound of Marat's voice. He _aches_ for Marat to touch him, for Marat to stroke the divots of his hips, the curve of his bicep. Marat's smile indicates that he knows exactly what Feli's thinking and is enjoying it. But then, Marat's always had more control that Feli. Always.

So Feliciano does what he can to even the score. In this case, that means shaking his hair back so Marat can watch him tug down the zipper with his teeth and nudge his nose into between the harsh metal to just brush against the thick heat of Marat's cock. He inhales, almost shakily, and his mouth waters. "You smell so good," he mutters. He doesn't say it for Marat's resulting hiss, he says it because it's true. The other man smells delicious, sweat and musk and skin. Feliciano wants nothing more than to taste it, but he can't reach like this, Marat's jeans still buttoned and his own hands behind his back. He can't even reach actual skin, can only pant and nudge at the soft cotton of his briefs.

Marat reaches down and again strokes Feli's hair back so he can see better. "Do you want to taste me?" he asks. The question makes Feli clench his fingers and toes in anticipation and his teeth sink down into cotton before he tears himself away.

"Yes," he nods, fingers still clenched behind his back. "God Marat, I've missed you. Will you let me show you how much?" He offers his throat to the other man, exposing the curve of his throat and the vulnerability of his neck to Marat in blatant submission.

Marat strokes a gentle finger down his throat, and then a sigh that Feli can't read. "Feliciano, not that I don't like this game," the words soft, "But right now, I just want to make love to you." He steps forward, zipper clinking and clothes rustling, heat of his body like the sun. “I want to be with you.”

Feliciano blinks. He had a definite idea how this evening was going to go, but this...This sounds almost better. He opens his mouth to tease with some remark about age, but changes his mind. He doesn't want Marat to change his mind, he realizes with a start. He wants this, wants to just love the other man without games or artifice. He slides to his feet and wraps his arms around Marat's neck. He loves Marat's height, that he can hold him and make him feel safe, make him feel cherished. He kisses him, struggling to keep it tender, but he's missed Marat too much for him to hold back. Marat matches his sudden desperation as he fists Feli's hair so he can attack his mouth, thrusting into his mouth like he owns it.

Marat runs his hands down Feliciano's back and grabs his ass, strong hands clenching and pulling him up. "God I've missed this ass," Marat growls. Feli only has a moment to wonder _what happened to making love?_ before Marat pulls back. He rapidly unbuttons his shirt, eyes on Feli a clear invitation for him to do the same.

Feli smiles under that gaze and toes off his shoes as he pulls his shirt over his head. Both men make their way to the bed as they strip. Once naked, Marat pushes Feli onto the mattress, Feli going more than willingly. As soon as Marat steps into reach Feliciano wraps his legs around his waist and plants his arms on the bed to rock up. "Marat," he says, the word reverent on his tongue. He manages to brush his cock against the divot of Marat's hip and both men hiss.

Marat slides his hands up his ribs so he's supporting Feli's curl. Feli uses the extra leverage to force his hips even higher. It's an awkward position and his shoulder scream, but he's not willing to give up his contact with Marat's skin to move. Marat takes the matter out of his hands when he moves closer. He carefully lowers Feli to the bed as he follows, skin touching the entire time. Once Feli's on his back, Marat ducks to kiss at his shoulders and his neck, little biting kisses like he wants to eat Feli alive. Legs still around Marat's waist, Feli tightens his thighs, squeezing Marat's sides and forcing a groan from the other man. At the sound Feli fists his hair and yanks him down, fighting to devour his mouth.

After god knows how long, Marat pulls up just enough to mutter a terse "Lube."

Feli shakes his head, body humming with the need to _feel_ him. "No, don't want it," he pants. He finally lets Marat go and lets his legs fall to the bed. But then he bends his knees and spreads his legs, and moans happily as Marat's cock slides up between his cheeks. He tightens his ass to clench around it and Marat bites off a savage groan.

In retaliation Marat reaches between them and fists Feli's cock. It's the first true stimulation Feli's felt so far and his entire body screams with it. "Felito, you're not making this easy," Marat mutters, handsome face twisted with pleasure.

"Good," Feli pants back. "Marito, I want you in me, _now_." But Marat still pulls back, the sudden loss leaving him cold and he whines. He's back in seconds, lube in hand, but Feli still bucks up, trying again to slide onto Marat's cock.

But Marat manages to place a hand on his lower stomach. "Feliciano, _solntse_." He puts his other hand on Feli's hip to keep him down. Somehow Marat had managed to lube his fingers and Feli shudders at the abrupt cold. "Just let me," Marat says. He ducks and presses a slow wet kiss to the sensitive spot right above his navel, tongue slipping easily over the skin. His chin catches on Feli's ribs as he slides up to his mouth, and Feli lets out a giggle just as Marat kisses his lips. “Hush, silly boy,” Marat mutters, but his mouth betrays him with an amused curve. And this. _This_ is what Feliciano's been longing for all these weeks. He's been counting down till Marat fucks him, till he wraps his lips around Marat's cock, till they tumble into bed too desperate to even undress. But that's not it. He's been waiting for _Marat_. For Marat to look at him with that love in his eyes, for Marat to touch him like he is something precious, fragile. For Marat to smile so wide Feli can't help but know that he is the other man's absolute favorite.

“Marat," he says, voice wondering.

Marat's eyes widen and the other man's smile transform into something more intimate. “Feliciano,” he says, the name an answer and a benediction. He spills more lube on his fingers and slides his hand along Feli's thigh to graze across his hole, trembling fingers marking his rising need. Feliciano purrs and undulates at both the sensation and Marat's increasing desperation. He can just lie back and let Marat anchor him, allow the lust twine up his spine with no care other than pleasure and Marat.

Marat slides a finger in, no hesitation. Feliciano moans happily; only Marat knows how to prep him just enough but not too much. He runs a hand up Marat's gleaming chest, fingers lingering over each muscle with the familiar burn of Marat's fingers sliding underneath his skin. "Marat," he says, pressing down. "I'm ready."

Marat doesn't bother questioning him or double checking. Just pulls his fingers out and pushes in, fast steady burn that has Feli tossing his head back against the pillow. Marat slides in like he's meant to be there, meant to be splitting him in half and pinning him to the bed and making him shudder. Marat starts a slow rhythm, hips rocking in and out. It's so soft and tender and Feliciano spares a moment to wonder at this. That such a fierce man could be this tender, this gentle with him. But he craves it. Needs it like rain, like sunlight, luxuriates in the weight of that love. He rocks up against him, the need to come subsumed for the moment by this feeling, this need for Marat, Marat, Marat. He wants to stay like this forever, connected and together, nothing keeping them apart. Doesn't realize he's mumbling until Marat pushes forward just that extra bit to nibble at his lips, still agonizingly gentle.

Feli grabs the opportunity; wraps his arms and legs around the other man and pulls him down. Marat slips out a bit and his back must be screaming, but Feli doesn't care. Just kisses him sloppily, tilting his hips and tightening his legs to urge him back in. Marat bites off a groan and growls at him, eyes crinkled with amusement and lust. He hitches his hips _up_ and Feliciano's eyes roll back in his head.

"Marat," he chokes. “Right there. Right there."

Marat bares his teeth. “You like that?” he mutters. Feli moans and Marat takes it as an affirmative. He tears away from Feli's arm and settles back on his heels, digging his hands into Feli's hips and yanking him down. Feliciano preens under Marat's unthinking possessiveness, and he reaches back to grip the headboard, back arching and body opening even more beneath Marat. The other man groans again and shoves in deeper. “Are you close?”

Feliciano can't even answer in words, body poised on the very edge of orgasm. Instead he moans, open mouthed, panting for air. Marat makes a sound, too guttural to be a moan, and starts to fuck him. Feliciano drops one hand to grab himself and stroke, matching Marat as best he can. With just one hand bracing himself, Marat's thrusts send him back into the headboard but he doesn't care, just jerks himself faster and faster. The air is thick with panting and sweat and the smell of sex, the rustle of the sheets and Marat's panting breaths. The room, the world narrows down the Marat's narrow hips thrusting into him, his rasping Russian in his ear. All of it, everything. All build to a frantic climax and Feli teeters on the edge, pleasure surging through every vein, every nerve.

He has time for one gasped “Marat,” before he's coming, entire body shaking with the force of it. He clenches down around Marat's cock, shuddering at the sheer fullness. Marat grunts and shoves in one last time, arching back in a tight bow, anchored to Feli by only his hands and his spurting cock. The image sears itself into Feli's brain and it's the last thing he sees as he closes his eyes and lets the white waves overwhelm him.

He dazes in and out as Marat pulls out, both shuddering at the loss of contact. Feli's pretty certain he whines at some point, but Marat just ghosts his fingers over his stomach as he goes to the bathroom for a washcloth. “Marat,” he pouts, but the other man is back before he finishes the word. Feli stretches out his arms and Marat gladly slips into them, resting his head next to Feli's. Feli's satiated and loved and so _happy_ in this moment. “Marat,” he murmurs. He wants to tell him, put this emotion into words, but his body is languid, every movement warm and soft and he aches from Marat but it's a good hurt, the kind of hurt he's been dreaming about for weeks.

“Sleep Feliciano,” Marat tells him, affection and tiredness blurring the words. “Just go to sleep, _kotyonok._ ”

And Feliciano does.

 


End file.
